Defying the Rogue Alpha
Chapter 193: Formal

Chapter 193: Formal

"Yes, Your Highness."

Minutes later, the doors opened again.

Zoe stepped into the dining room. Her hair was still damp from a shower.

"Your Highness?" she said, standing straight, formal.

He stood slowly. "Leave us," he said without looking at the servants. They bowed and left wordlessly, shutting the doors behind them.

Zoe walked forward. He tried to meet her halfway but paused when the words began to climb out of his chest.

"I can’t do this, Zoe. I..." He didn’t know what came after that. I miss you? I ache? I need you like I need breath?

But she wasn’t listening.

Because Zoe had blessedly, decided that words were overrated.

She kissed him.

A long, searing, soul-snatching kiss that made Dennis forget how to function. Her hands were in his hair and her body pressed against his like she’d waited too damn long too.

His hands found her waist and pulled her close. They both tumbled into the chair he had just gotten up from. She ended up on his lap, knees straddling either side of him. He was supposed to be king, to command presence and power but all he could do right now was hold on to her.

When they finally broke apart, both of them gasping for air, eyes wide and breathless, Dennis said the most poetic thing his stunned brain could muster.

"Okay... so... dinner’s probably cold now."

Zoe chuckled, resting her forehead against his.

"I missed you," Zoe whispered. Her eyes twinkled as she slowly kissed him again.

Dennis exhaled, heavy with longing, his forehead pressed to hers. "There is still no progress with the council," he murmured, frustration creeping into his tone. "How long am I supposed to be without you, Zoe?"

Zoe chuckled lightly, brushing her fingers along the side of his face. "But you’re not without me. I’m here, aren’t I?" Her smile was playful, but there was truth in it too, a reminder that despite the boundaries drawn by politics and the whispers of the court, she was still his.

Dennis pulled back just a bit, not enough to let her go, but enough for his eyebrows to knit together. "You’re only here because I called for you," he said, the bitterness of that truth thickening his voice. "You’re meant to be right here. Beside me. Always."

Zoe’s lips curled in a smile tinged with sadness. "I’m your wife, Dennis, but I’m not your queen. Not yet. I can’t live in the royal quarters, not until the council says I’m worthy. But," she added, a mischievous spark flaring in her eye, "if my king summons me...sometimes in the dead of night, ...I cannot say no, can I?"

Dennis paused, then laughed, despite himself. "Hmm. I really like the way you think."

Zoe leaned in, resting her hands on his chest. "We’re going to be fine, Dennis. This... all of this is just a test of time. We’ll make it. I promise." Her words were soft but unshakable.

"Now," she said with sudden urgency, glancing toward the door, "before the maids return..."

In one fluid motion, she unbuttoned his shirt. His breath caught as her fingers slid over the skin of his chest, cool and warm all at once. His eyes, wide with hunger, only grew brighter when she pulled her own top over her head with zero hesitation.

Before he could even fully admire the sight, she crushed her lips to his again, this kiss fiercer than the last, filled with pent-up passion. Dennis didn’t hesitate. He responded with equal intensity, his arms wrapping around her like he might lose her again if he loosened his grip.

She gasped softly against his mouth as he unhooked her bra with one hand, the other hand instinctively wrapping around the curve of her breast. His lips trailed down to her jaw, then her neck, where he kissed and licked, slowly, as though mapping his way back to the one place that felt like home.

"Gods, I missed you," he muttered against her skin.

"I can tell," she replied, her fingers threading through his hair.

He didn’t need ten minutes, ten years might not even be enough. He didn’t want to rush. But the urgency of absence had made lovers of them all over again.

Dennis had always imagined their first night after their wedding as something sacred. He had hoped by now, he would have marked her, left his imprint not just on her skin, but on her very soul. The connection that bound mates forever, was meant to happen under the moonlight, between whispered promises and tender touches. A part of his soul was supposed to rest within hers, sealed by teeth and trust. But instead of marking her, she had marked him with the burden of a crown and the chaos of a kingdom. On what was meant to be their wedding night, Zoe had dropped kingship into his lap, smiling as she handed him everything except herself.

And still, he could never say no to her.

Now, as her head tilted back and she let out a breathy moan, grinding herself against his erection with wild abandon, Dennis couldn’t even remember his own name. She moved like sin and salvation wrapped in one absurdly beautiful, exasperating package. Her breath hitched in delight, a sound that sent lightning down his spine. There was no time for ceremony, no place for sentiment. There was just this; heat, desperation, and the pounding ache of wanting someone so badly it hurt.

"Zoe..." he half-growled, half-begged, but she wasn’t listening. Or maybe she was, and that’s why she rolled her hips harder against him, her fingers curling into his shoulders like she needed him to hold her together.

With surprising ease, he rose to his feet with her still wrapped tightly around him. He didn’t even notice the items they knocked off the table. He could fix a kingdom. He could not, however, fix the fire burning through him.

Zoe slid down to her feet, breath ragged, and turned her back to him. "We don’t have time," she muttered, undoing her shorts. She pushed the fabric just low enough, baring herself to him without looking back.

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